


Mess

by ConesOfDunshire



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cheating, F/M, Miscarriage, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6141391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConesOfDunshire/pseuds/ConesOfDunshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes life is messy. Very messy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Koutarou, calm down!” you shouted.

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!” he yelled right back.

The two of you had been locked in a screaming match for the past fifteen minutes. All because of the cologne.

“I don’t know how many times I have to say it!” you cried. “I was on the train! Someone was standing close to me, the smell must’ve—“

“Do you seriously think I’m stupid?!” Bokuto roared.

“Koutarou, you have to take a deep breath and calm—“

But Bokuto had no intention of calming down. He swept his hands across the table, flinging everything off of it in his rage. Books, papers, the picture of the two of you at nationals—all of it went flying. You could hear the glass of the picture frame shatter as it his the ground.

You spun on your heel and made your way into the kitchen. You couldn’t look at him. But Bokuto wasn’t going to let that happen. His thundering footsteps followed you, and when he caught your wrist, he spun you toward him violently.

“Who is he?” he hissed.

“Koutarou, I don’t know what you’re—“

“I know you’re lying to me,” he cut you off. “If there isn’t anyone else, then where the hell were you today?”

“I told you, I had a doctor’s appointment,” you bit back.

“Until 8:00 at night?” he countered.

“It was across town. Go ahead and call if you don’t believe me!”

“Who is he?” Bokuto repeated, his voice a low growl

“Koutarou, let me go. Now.”

“Tell me!”

“Let me go.”

“Just tell me!”

“Let me—“

You heard the smack before you felt it. It seemed to echo in the space of your small kitchen. Your neck jerked from the impact. After a few seconds, you felt the pinpricks against your skin.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

Bokuto’s voice had returned to normal—no, he sounded frantic now. He couldn’t believe what he’d just done. You jerked your arm from his grip and returned to the living room. But he was close on your heels.

“Please… Please don’t… I’m… I’m so sorry, I… I didn’t mean to… Please, you can’t go,” he pleaded.

But you ignored him, sliding into your shoes and throwing your jacket over your shoulders. In an act of desperation, Bokuto grabbed the back of your jacket, trying to pull you back to him.

“Please don’t leave me.”

He sounded so broken. So empty. You couldn’t look at him.

“I just need some time, Kou,” you murmured.

Bokuto hesitated. What if you never came back to him? What if he let you go and you disappeared from his life forever?

But after a moment, you felt his grip slacken.

“Please come back to me,” he begged.

“I just need some time,” you repeated.

When the door closed behind you, Bokuto dropped to his knees and began to sob. He didn’t care anymore about the other man. He knew he was real, and it ate away at him. But he would let you do whatever you wanted, see whoever you wanted on the side… As long as you came back to him.

 

You made it down the stairs and out into the cool night air before slumping against the wall. Your hand groped in the pocket of your coat for your phone. It rang twice before the voice on the other end picked up.

“Hey.”

“Can I come over?” you murmured.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

You paused, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

“He… He smelled your cologne.”

“What did he do? Are you okay?”

“I just… Can I please come over?”

“Yeah. Do you need me to come get you?”

“No. I’ll be right there.”

 

Akaashi hung up the phone, staring down at the screen. He hadn’t meant for it to be like this. He hadn’t meant for things to go this far. Bokuto was his best friend. You were with Bokuto. He knew that.

But it didn’t stop him from kissing you. It didn’t stop him from sleeping with you. It didn’t stop him from falling in love with you.

This was such a mess. And he didn’t know what to do.


	2. Chapter 2

There was always a moment, a moment when you wondered if it was too late to back out. Sometimes it was on the train across town. Sometimes it was on the walk to the apartment. But usually it happened on your way up the stairs. You would always pause, your legs unwilling to carry you any further. Was it too late to turn around? To go back home? To forget any of this mess had ever happened?

But your legs would always start moving before you could come up with an answer. Maybe there wasn’t an answer. Maybe you didn’t want to know it.

You rapped three times against the door, and then counted. One, two, three, four…

The door opened, revealing a worried Akaashi.

“He hit you,” he said pointedly.

It wasn’t a question. You knew you wore the evidence like a battle wound against your cheek. You slipped past him into the apartment, and he shut the door behind you. He slid your jacket from your shoulders, his fingers trailing down your arms, lingering a little too long.

“I’m sorry for intruding,” you murmured.

“You’re not intruding,” he countered.

You made your way into the living room and dropped onto the couch, leaning your head back against the cushion. It always seemed to engulf you. Maybe you could sink into its depths and never come out. Maybe that would be nice. You felt the couch shift as Akaashi sat down next to you. His fingers brushed against the handprint on your cheek. It stung. You felt like you deserved it.

“He doesn’t get to touch you like that,” Akaashi noted, as though he were reading your mind. Maybe he was.

“I know,” you replied.

“But you’re going to forgive him.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you sighed.

“But you are.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“He—“

“Keiji.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of his cologne. The cologne that opened these floodwaters. You loved that smell—citrus and spices and jasmine and earth. And you hated that you loved it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his hand reaching for yours.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” you sighed.

“I think we both know that isn’t true.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, you felt a laugh escape your lips. His shoulders shook, giving way to a laugh too. It wasn’t funny. There wasn’t a single thing about it that was funny. But when the alternative was to cry, it hurt a little less to laugh about it.

“Keiji,” you murmured.

You looked up at him, and not for the first time, you were overwhelmed by his somber expression. It always felt strange to be overwhelmed by him. He was the rock that seemed to hold everyone together. But being with him like this, you felt like falling apart. Your hands reached for him blindly, tangling in his short black hair, pulling him toward you. You wanted to drown in him. His mouth was on yours in an instant, pouring himself into you, filling you up. His hands held your face—gently on the left side, easing the stinging flesh with his thumb.

“Keiji,” you whispered against his lips. “Please… I need you.”

“Come on.”

And, taking your hands in his, he led you back to the bedroom.

 

It was always easy to tell Bokuto and Akaashi apart when they made love to you. Everything with Bokuto was fast and turbulent—but always just short of being careless, always still attentive to your needs. With Akaashi, everything was slow and deliberate, measured, even. Even with your eyes closed, you knew whom you were with.

But when you came down from that high, when the air settled, they both would pull you close. They would bury their faces in your hair, inhaling deeply, trying to memorize your scent. And in that moment, it was impossible to tell the difference between them. You always wished you could freeze that moment in time, trapped in an eternity of uncertainty. You never knew who you wanted it to be, whose face you wanted to see when they pulled away.

But the moment never lasted. They always pulled away.

Akaashi liked to lie on his side and watch you, tracing his long, delicate fingers against your skin. Sometimes you tried to follow the patterns, deciding if they made something all together. Of course, if Akaashi was the one tracing them, they probably did. But you could never follow along for more than a few minutes.

As he trailed the digits over your stomach, you looked over to find him staring at your face, eyes locking onto yours.

“Are you going to tell him?” he asked.

“It’s not like I can keep it a secret anymore,” you replied.

His eyebrows furrowed as he continued to appraise your face.

“Are you going to stay with him?”

You had to look away now. His eyes were searching yours. You didn’t know what he would find if he looked to close. You didn’t want to know.

“I don’t know,” you murmured.

“Do you still love him?”

“Yes,” you replied, and this time, there was no hesitation.

You felt the next question, silent and pleading. It wasn’t that he was too proud to ask it. But he was terrified of the answer. You looked back at him, your hand reaching out to stroke his cheek.

“And I love you, too,” you said softly.

He leaned into your touch, wishing it could last forever. He knew what happened next. And he hated it.

“Keiji, I—“

“Please, not yet,” he said, and now there was a quaver of panic in his voice. “Just… A little longer.”

He closed the space between you, pulling you against him, burying his face in your hair. And for just a little bit longer, you let yourself forget just who was holding you.

 

Bokuto had tried everything possible to distract himself. He’d done a load of laundry, cleaned the kitchen, organized the books on the bookshelf, and even gone through an old box of things from high school—things he had to decide if they were worth holding onto, memories that felt outside of time. He hadn’t been able to get rid of any of it, taping the box back up and sticking it in a closet underneath the old blankets.

But no matter what he did, time seemed to pass even slower than usual. Now, he was just sitting on the couch, holding his head in his hands and praying to hear the click of the lock. He hadn’t moved in what felt like days, but had probably only been an hour.

The click of the latch made him leap to his feet. Seeing you appear in the doorway again filled him with relief. You came back.

“Welcome home,” he said softly.

“Kou… We need to talk.”

How could five words fill him with such dread? How could they make him feel as though he’d never be happy again? He approached you quickly, hands reaching for yours, pulling them to him. He needed to feel you here with him.

“Please, just wait,” he murmured. “Not yet. Please.”

“Kou…”

“Look, I don’t care, okay?” he pressed on frantically. “Whoever it is, I don’t care about him. You can be with him if you want to. I won’t stop you.”

“Kou…”

“No, look, it’s okay,” he cut you off. “I promise, I’ll be okay. I’ll let you do whatever you want. I won’t say another word. I won’t… I promise… Just… Please… You can’t leave me.”

“Koutarou.”

The severity of your voice stopped the words in his throat. He felt an unrelenting panic take over. He wanted to bind his ears, cover your mouth, anything to keep you from saying the words… Anything to keep you with him.

“What?” he asked despite himself.

“Koutarou… I’m pregnant.”


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m pregnant.”

The words tasted like metal in your mouth. You’d thought maybe saying them out loud would make it all feel more real. But it still seemed like a dream—hazy around the edges, nothing solid, nothing permanent.

Bokuto seemed to processes your words in waves. At first, he was dumbfounded. Then, his face lit up, happiness taking over. However, the smile fell almost immediately, his expression slipping into panic. He was searching your face for an answer.

Like you had one.

He stumbled backwards, knees hitting the armrest of the couch. He leaned against it, trying to collect himself. He was still searching you.

“Is it mine?” he asked finally.

“I don’t know.”

He looked as though you’d slapped him.

“Why?” he asked softly.

“Koutarou, I can’t excuse anything I’ve done,” you murmured. “There isn’t an excuse… But you have to accept that you’re partially responsible.”

“What?” he asked.

You took a deep, steadying breath.

“Koutarou,” you sighed. “You’re the one who left me.”

He leapt from his spot against the side of the couch, hands balled into fists at his sides. Maybe he would hit you again. Maybe you wanted him to hit you.

“You’re the one who told me to go!” he cried. “’It was the Japanese National team, I would never have this opportunity again, I couldn’t pass it up!’ You were the one who said that!”

“I know I told you go,” you conceded. “But I didn’t tell you to forget about me.”

Bokuto opened his mouth to retort, but his words caught in his throat, leaving him to gape at you silently.

“Koutarou, do you remember how many times you called me?”

“I… I don’t…”

“In the year you were gone, you called me twice,” you went on. “Once the first weekend you were there. And once when you were drunk with your teammates. That was it… Do you remember how many times I called you?”

He couldn’t answer.

“I lost track, Kou,” you continued. “I called you so many times… I needed you.”

“You knew I was going to be busy when I—“

“Kou, you didn’t even call me back when my mom died!” you cut him off, stumbling over your tears. “I called you, left messages… I didn’t need you to come home, I didn’t need you here with me… All I needed was to hear your voice…” You choked back a sob. “I needed to know I wasn’t alone.”

Bokuto leaned back against the couch once more. His fight left him completely.

“Is that when you started with… Him?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Who is he?”

“Does it matter?” you murmured. “Will it make you hate him any less to know who he is?”

“No,” Bokuto laughed bitterly. “I don’t think I could hate anyone more than myself right now.”

“Koutarou, I’m not trying to shift the blame to you,” you said. “I did this. I’m the one who did this… But I couldn’t be alone. I couldn’t struggle alone. I needed someone. And you weren’t there. You chose not to be there. And I made a choice too. And we both have to live with it.”

A heavy silence settled between the two of you, both of you reeling with the implications of what this all meant. Bokuto hung his head, heaving a tired sigh.

“Are you leaving me, then?” he asked.

A moment passed, and when you didn’t reply, he looked back up at you. You were watching him closely.

“No.”

His eyes widened.

“What?”

“I’m not leaving you, Kou,” you sighed. “I… I don’t know what I’m doing. But I don’t want to be without you either.”

Bokuto flew toward you, dropping to his knees and throwing his arms around your waist. You could feel its trembling fingers curl around the fabric of your jacket. His cheek pressed against your stomach.

“You’re not leaving me,” he murmured to himself. “You’re not leaving me…”

His voice was so broken. So empty. When did this happen to him? When did the Bokuto you fell in love with fracture? Was it because of you? Did you break him?

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer. You loved him even though he was broken.

You loved him because you were broken too.


	4. Chapter 4

Bokuto Koutarou was like the sun—so bright that he could blind you.

You’d never forget the day you first met him.

Two mornings a week, you opened up your family’s bakery. It was in a pretty good location, always got a lot of traffic during the morning rush. But typically, all was quiet when you first opened.

Which was why you were so surprised when, on a cold winter morning before the sun came up, the door to the bakery burst open and two men practically sprinted inside. One of them, the one with the white-tipped hair, stumbled toward you and slammed his hands down on the counter. He looked frantic.

“We need breakfast,” he gasped.

It took you a moment to recover.

“W-well, I can do that for you,” you replied.

“We need breakfast for 25 people,” he continued.

“I… Think I can probably still do that,” you said tersely.

“Really?!”

The man’s face lit up in the widest smile you’d ever seen. It was almost blinding. You felt your own mouth curving into a smile to match it.

“It’s mostly sweet foods, but if that’s okay—“

“Anything, I need anything,” the man cut you off. “I’m desperate.”

“Okay, sure,” you nodded. “It might take me a few minutes to box it all up.”

“Take your time.”

You got to work packing up the pastries. By now, the other man had drawn up to his friend and the two were talking quietly. The second one, the one with the wild black hair, kept glancing over at you.

“You know,” he said suddenly, “we really do appreciate you helping us out like this. Well, I know Bokuto sure appreciates it. He’s the one who would be in trouble without you.”

The other man—Bokuto, apparently—glared at his friend.

“In trouble, huh?” you mused.

“Yeah, he lost a bet with our captain, so he has to bring in food for the whole team,” the dark-haired man went on.

“I tried making it myself, but… It didn’t go well,” Bokuto mumbled.

“The fire department ended up at our apartment.”

“I burned it all, I burned everything. I don’t even know how.”

“Oh no!” you laughed. “Well, don’t worry, I’m here to rescue you.”

You were so busy looking down at the muffins in the display case, you missed Bokuto’s blush, as well as his friend’s sly glance.

“So, what’s a pretty girl like you doing working somewhere like this?” the dark haired man asked, leaning against the counter.

“My family owns this place,” you replied, slipping the package of muffins into a bag. “I’m here a few mornings a week before class.”

“So… If we were to come by again tomorrow, would you be here?”

“Not tomorrow, but Wednesday I would.”

“Interesting…”

“Shut up, Kuroo,” Bokuto hissed.

“Alright,” you sighed, brushing off your hands on your apron. “You’ve got enough here to feed a small army.”

You handed the bags over the counter, and Kuroo took them while Bokuto paid. Bokuto looked tense.

“Anything else you guys need?” you asked.

“Uh… W-well…” Bokuto shuffled his feet. “N-no, I guess not.”

Kuroo sighed, but said nothing. The two of them made their way out of the bakery, a cold breeze sweeping in as the door opened and closed. You examined the display case, deciding what to bring out from the back. Then, suddenly, the door burst open again. Bokuto flew over the threshold.

“YOUR PHONE NUMBER!” he shouted.

You were taken aback, staring at him with wide eyes.

“W-what?” you asked.

“Can I get your phone number?” he panted.

“A-ah, sure!” you replied, still in a state of shock.

“Really?!” he cried, his entire face lighting up in that wide smile once more.

“Yeah, sure,” you said.

You were dazzled by his smile. And you couldn’t help but smile right along with him.

It took Bokuto a long time to finally ask you out. It seemed his courage had lapsed after asking you for your phone number. For a while, he was just “your friend, Bokuto.” Until one day, when he wasn’t. When you found yourself thinking about him a little too long, missing him a little too much, wondering when you were going to see your Bokuto again. 

Your Bokuto.

When did that happen? How did you get so swept away by him, so dazzled, so blinded?

And when he finally asked you, blushing and stammering, talking so fast you could barely understand him, you felt yourself swept up by him once more. And when you said yes, he smiled at you, and you felt yourself being blinded all over again.

Because he was the sun.

How could you ever live without him?


	5. Chapter 5

Akaashi Keiji was like the earth—stable and steady beneath your feet.

You couldn’t remember the day you first met him.

No matter how often you thought about it, you just couldn’t remember a time when Akaashi wasn’t a cemented presence in your life. You hadn’t known him for more than a few years, and yet you felt like you’d known him forever. You asked him once, your curiosity piqued, if he remembered when the two of you met. Even he didn’t know.

“It was like you were just there,” he replied. “Like you’d always been there.”

After college, Akaashi got a job at an architecture firm. He worked long hours almost every day of the week. You were helping your parents run the bakery. With an accounting degree, your dad put you in charge of the books—your mom had always done it, but her health was starting to affect her work. As a result, you and Akaashi saw less and less of each other.

On top of it all, you were with Bokuto. The two of you lived together, and you were happy. Every couple had their problems, but it didn’t seem like the two of you had many.

It was almost a little too good.

Bokuto came to you with the news from his coach that someone from the Japanese National volleyball team had been scouting him. He was so excited, so dazzling, you found you couldn’t be anything but happy for him. And when he told you that they wanted him, you told him he didn’t have a choice but to go.

And then you watched as Bokuto slipped away from you.

After the first week, you didn’t get a single phone call from him. And no matter how many times you tried to call him, he didn’t answer—most of the time, his phone was off. For a while, you pacified yourself with the excuse that practices were long and he was probably exhausted.

But by the end of the second month, that wasn’t enough. You knew he’d forgotten about you.

So, the next time you picked up your phone, another number came up. Another voice. One that steadied you. The only one that had ever made you feel grounded to this earth.

“Hello?”

“Keiji.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked. He always knew.

“Can I come over?” you asked.

“Sure.”

Nothing happened with Akaashi right away. All you needed was another body in the room, someone to let you know that you weren’t completely alone. Sitting on his couch, reading a magazine while he drew up blueprints, it was what you needed. It was so easy, so comfortable. Maybe things would be okay until Bokuto came home. Maybe this would be enough.

No one expected your mother’s death. She got so sick so fast, and before you or your dad could do anything about it, she was just gone. You couldn’t process it. You felt completely alone without her. And no matter how many times you called Bokuto, he didn’t answer. After a while, your calls went straight to voicemail. You felt like you were suffocating, drowning in the pain. It would swallow you whole. You needed to touch back down to solid ground.

It felt like your feet carried you across town without you telling them to. Your frantic hammering on the door was probably loud enough to wake the entire complex. And when Akaashi opened the door, you threw yourself into his arms, clinging to him. And he clung back.

Your frantic babbling was probably unintelligible. Thinking back on it now, that entire span of time was just a blur. You were losing yourself, still sinking, still drowning…

Akaashi’s kiss breathed all the air back into your lungs. After months of drifting aimlessly, waiting for just a glimpse at the sun, you felt your feet touch back on the ground. He held you there, in that moment. He was the gravity that you needed. And so you let him kiss you. And you kissed him back. And you let him carry you into his bed.

Lying next to him afterwards, feeling his fingers trace patterns over your heated skin, you wondered why you didn’t feel guilty. What you’d done was irreversible. It changed everything. But looking into his eyes—eyes that always seemed to peer into your soul—you found you just couldn’t regret it.

And when he told you he loved you, you said it back. And you meant it.

Because he was the earth.

How could you ever live without him?


	6. Chapter 6

You went through all the motions of being pregnant. Every morning for the first few months, you found yourself hunched over the toilet, vomiting out what felt like every organ in your body. Your stomach stared to grow, a few new stretch marks coming in here and there. The cravings were getting more intense, and you found yourself wandering aimlessly around the kitchen at 2:00 in the morning eating without an end in sight. You’d even started to feel the baby moving, a few kicks startling you every now and then.

Everyone told you that everything you were experiencing was normal.

So why didn’t you feel anything?

Why didn’t you feel connected to the small life inside you? Hours spent researching online told you that most women bonded with the fetus fairly quickly, and there were even some tips for feeling connected to it—talking to it, singing to it, keeping a journal of your experiences, even doing yoga. But nothing worked. There was nothing that made it feel like anything more than a bump. Nothing that made it feel like yours.

Bokuto liked to talk to the bump. He would lay with his head on your chest, talking absentmindedly about things that would come to his mind. He told the bump that he would teach it how to play volleyball, that he would take care of it, that he would give it whatever it wanted.

Akaashi liked to touch the bump. He would lie next to you as he always did, fingers trailing over your stomach, tracing those impossible patterns. A few times you actually thought he was writing kanji. But it was almost impossible to follow. And when you noticed he was staring intently into your eyes, you realized it didn’t matter.

They both felt so connected to the life inside you.

What was so wrong with you that you didn’t?

 

Bokuto was anxious. He flipped through the magazine in his hands, and you could tell he wasn’t even remotely reading it. His leg was bouncing so fast it shook the table in front of him. You placed a hand against his thigh, never looking up from the book in your lap, and the bouncing halted abruptly. His hand found yours on instinct and gave a strong squeeze.

“What if there’s something wrong with it?” he asked not for the first time.

“We’ll figure it out,” you said. “But I don’t think there’ll be anything wrong.”

“How can you know though?” he asked.

“Everything was fine at the last checkup,” you replied.

Bokuto said nothing. You knew it was probably a sore subject. He’d taken off of practice this morning so that he could be the one at this check up. You’d come home from the last one smelling of the cologne that made him sick. He hadn’t said anything, though you knew it killed him.

But you couldn’t do this alone.

When the doctor called you back, Bokuto shuffled into the examination room behind you. You could see her eyeing you speculatively as he helped you onto the table. It made sense, and you couldn’t blame her. She’d seen Akaashi do the same thing with you last month. But she said nothing. You almost wished she would’ve.

Bokuto’s hand held yours so tightly, you thought he might break it. His palm was sweating. You squeezed back, trying to calm him without words. But he still looked so scared.

The doctor squeezed the gel onto your stomach, and though you knew she was probably judging you, she gave you a gentle smile anyway.

“Any guesses?” she asked offhandedly.

“I can’t even take a shot in the dark,” you sighed.

“What about you?” she looked up at Bokuto.

“Ah… Well… It doesn’t matter to me,” he faltered.

“Well, let’s find out.”

She pressed the probe to your stomach and you could hear the heartbeat almost immediately. Bokuto’s entire body seemed to release all of its tension.

“Told you,” you murmured.

“Well, I was still nervous,” he sighed.

The probe moved around your stomach as the doctor watched the screen in front of her. Then she smiled again, wider than before.

“He looks perfectly healthy,” she said as she turned the screen toward you.

“He?” Bokuto gasped.

The doctor pointed him out on the screen, showing you his legs, his hands, his head. Bokuto was beside himself with happiness. But you still couldn’t feel anything. The image on the screen looked like a blur of black and white lines. How could it be something living inside you? How could it really exist? Why didn’t he feel like yours?

But when Bokuto looked at you, his face was split into that wide smile. It was the smile you remembered, the one he always wore before he was broken. The one that made you fall in love with him. You felt yourself smiling right along with him.

“I thought you said it didn’t matter to you,” you teased.

“It didn’t, but… But I’m so happy,” he sighed.

He leaned down and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, burying his face in your hair. For a minute, you forgot just who it was. You looked up to see the doctor watching you closely. But she wasn’t judging you. She looked at you with something that seemed like… Pity?

Her sad smile confirmed it. She pitied you.

You didn’t deserve it.

 

Four sharp raps against the door. One, two, three, four…

The door opened and Akaashi appeared looking anxious.

“So?” he asked. “How was it?”

“It’s a boy,” you replied.

You barely caught the look of elation that crossed his face before he pulled you over the threshold and into his arms. He buried his face in your hair. You forgot just who was holding you for a moment.

“Could I get some water?” you asked as he pulled away.

“Sure.”

You settled on the couch, wondering as you always did if it could swallow you up. Akaashi returned with a glass of water that you drank half of immediately. He settled onto the couch next to you, fingers finding yours against the cushion.

“Is he healthy?”

“He’s perfect,” you nodded.

“You don’t make that sound like it’s a good thing,” he noted.

“It’s not that.”

“Is it the same as before?”

You’d told Akaashi about not feeling connected when he found you hunched over his computer at 4:00 in the morning once looking up pregnancy horror stories—stories about mothers who ignored their children after they were born, mothers who hated their children, mothers who abandoned them. He’d held you while you sobbed, begging him not to let you hurt it even if you didn’t love it.

“What if I never feel it, Keiji?” you asked weakly.

“You will,” he urged. “Remember what we read? It isn’t uncommon. Some women don’t even feel anything for weeks after the baby’s born.”

“But what if—“

“You’re going to be an amazing mother,” he cut you off.

You wanted to believe him so badly. But the fingers of doubt still lurked in the reaches of your brain, taunting you, telling you that you were going to fail.

“Do you have to go home?” he asked suddenly.

“Kou left for a tournament this afternoon,” you replied. “I… I would be there by myself.”

“Stay,” he urged.

You could never turn down that request. So, a few minutes later, you found yourself washing your face in the bathroom, one of his t-shirts slipping over your shoulders. 

Then, something happened. You felt it so suddenly, you weren’t immediately sure what it was. It felt like a gasp of air, but you hadn’t done anything. You pressed your hands against your stomach. When it happened again, you jumped.

“What are you doing?” you whispered.

As if in response, it happened again. A breath of air, a breath that wasn’t yours.

A hiccup.

“Did I drink the water too fast?” you asked gently.

He seemed to give a hiccup in response. Like he’d understood.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured.

“Are you okay? Why are you crying?” Akaashi asked suddenly from the doorway.

You glanced up at him in surprise. A hand slipped to your cheek, feeling the warm tears that stained it. You hadn’t even realized.

“He’s hiccupping,” you noted.

“Does it feel weird?” he asked, drawing up to you immediately.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

But it wasn’t just weird. It was so much more than that. You felt it so strongly. How could you have ever doubted that it would happen?

He finally felt like yours.


	7. Chapter 7

“Babe, I’m going out for a while tonight,” Bokuto called from the bathroom

“Have fun,” you replied, your attention never wavering from the magazine in your hands.

It seemed as though things had almost gone back to normal between the two of you. The news of his impending son had Bokuto on cloud nine. He’d been shockingly attentive, catering to your every need and waiting on you whenever he was home. It almost felt the way it had when you first started dating.

“Don’t you want to know what I’m doing?” he asked as he made his way into the living room.

You glanced up at him curiously.

“Do I need to know?” you countered.

“Well… No,” he scoffed.

You shut the magazine with a soft sigh.

“Where are you off to, Kou?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he said, raising his hands dramatically.

“Kou, come on,” you laughed.

“Nope, you don’t even care,” he huffed.

You shook your head, still chuckling at him. He gave you a quick kiss, then leaned down and kissed your stomach before making his way to the door.

“Love you, babe,” he called back to you.

“Love you, too. Have fun,” you said.

“It’s just drinks with the guys from Fukurodani, it should be pretty fun. I haven’t seen most of them in a while,” he noted.

He waved a farewell over his shoulder and shut the door behind him. He completely missed the look of shock that had crossed over your face.

You had tried to tell yourself that you weren’t keeping this from him on purpose. But it was a bold-faced lie. He’d asked, and you’d withheld. But the truth was, you didn’t care if he found out and hated you for it. But to have him hate Akaashi… It was the last tie that was left, the last string to the past that hadn’t been severed. If Bokuto hated Akaashi, then everything would be different. And maybe you weren’t ready to face that yet.

You had dialed Akaashi’s number without noticing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked when he picked up.

“You don’t have to ask that every time I call,” you noted.

“Well… You only tend to call when something’s wrong.”

“Are you going out with your friends tonight?” you asked.

“I’m already here,” he replied. “Why? What do you need?”

“N-no… Nothing… It’s fine,” you murmured.

“I can leave, I’ll—“

“No, stay,” you cut him off. “I’m fine, just… It’s fine. I’ll talk to you later.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You leaned your head back against the couch and closed your eyes. You felt so tired. One of your hands pressed against your stomach, your newest habit.

“I love you too, you know,” you murmured.

You felt him shift inside you. It was like he knew. It always seemed like he knew.

 

Bokuto felt like he was having fun. It had been a long time since he last said that. But it was true tonight. Catching up with his high school friends was making him feel nostalgic. Everyone was having a good time, drinking and eating and swapping life stories. Yamato was in law school now. And Komi was already married. They were all excited to hear Bokuto regale them with tales of the national team. And he was happy to oblige.

The only person who didn’t seem to be enjoying himself was Akaashi.

He’d barely looked up from his phone the entire night, and he was nursing the same beer that he’d been on when Bokuto showed up. Komi had tried to engage him a few times, but Akaashi had replied with one-word answers or nods. He’d always been withdrawn, but this was a little ridiculous.

“Fine, maybe work isn’t interesting,” Komi conceded. “But you’ve gotta have a girlfriend or something, right?”

For the first time in 10 minutes, Akaashi’s eyes snapped up from his phone. The table exploded in a fervor.

“So you do have a girlfriend, then!” Yamato laughed.

“Tell us about her, is she cute?” Komi asked.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Akaashi said firmly, and Bokuto saw that he was staring right at him.

“Well, that’s okay,” Bokuto shrugged.

Akaashi stared for a second longer, then returned his attention to his phone.

“Alright, well we know you have a girlfriend, how’s she doing?” Komi asked, turning to Bokuto.

“Ah… Well, we haven’t really told anyone,” Bokuto murmured. “But… Well… She’s pregnant.”

Another cheer rang out around the table as everyone raised a toast to the happy couple. Bokuto realized with a start that Akaashi was staring at him again.

“What?” Bokuto asked.

“Nothing,” Akaashi replied with disdain.

“What the hell?”

“I’ll be back,” Akaashi huffed.

Akaashi rose from the table and swept toward the bathroom. Bokuto tried to ignore him, turning instead to listen to Komi telling a story about one of his professors.

But as Akaashi breezed past him, Bokuto smelled something. Something that made him feel sick.

Cologne.

He whipped his head around to see Akaashi disappear into the bathroom. He was on his feet and thundering after him before he could stop himself. When he threw open the bathroom door, Akaashi was standing there waiting, as if he’d been waiting for this moment. The air was tense.

“It was you,” Bokuto finally said, and it wasn’t a question.

Akaashi said nothing.

“Fucking admit it,” Bokuto spat. “You fucked her.”

“Fine.”

Bokuto felt a flare of rage. He could barely hold back the urge to step forward and throw a punch.

“How could you do this?” Bokuto growled.

“I wouldn’t have needed to do anything if you hadn’t abandoned her,” Akaashi replied evenly.

This time, Bokuto couldn’t stop himself from flying forward, fingers curling around Akaashi’s collar.

“You think you get to lecture me about my relationship?” he hissed. “You think you get to have anything to say to me after you fucked her?”

“That’s really all you care about, isn’t it?” Akaashi asked calmly. “That we had sex?”

“What are you talking about?”

Bokuto glared at the man in his grip, growing more furious by the second with his impassive gaze. The words sank in slowly.

“You… You’re in love with her…”

“She needed you,” Akaashi said, his voice dripping with disgust. “She needed to hear your voice. She needed to know that she wasn’t alone. And you were too selfish to care.”

Bokuto wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up. He wanted to throw him into the wall, wanted to knock his teeth in. But instead, he felt his grip slackening.

“He isn’t yours,” he murmured.

Akaashi slipped out of Bokuto’s grasp, straightening his shirt. He strode calmly past Bokuto to the door.

“Do you really think that would change anything?”

And with that he was gone.

Bokuto returned to the table and dropped to the floor, burying his face in his hands. Komi asked if he was okay. But he couldn’t answer.

How could he possibly be okay?

He couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t see it before. How long had Akaashi been holding on to these feelings? Another thought flitted into his brain, one that made him feel as sick as the cologne: you were in love with Akaashi too. And what if the baby was Akaashi’s? Was he right? Would that change anything? His head was spinning from the weight of this information. He wanted to forget about it, all of it.

He barely registered the vibrating against his thigh. When he slipped his phone from his pocket, he saw your name illuminated on the screen. A surge of emotions passed through him—anger, despair, betrayal, staggering guilt… How could he even speak to you now?

So he did the only thing he knew how to do. The thing that had initially pushed you away from him.

He turned off his phone.

 

Bokuto had been standing outside the door to the apartment for 10 minutes now, the key hovering in front of the knob. He’d managed to sober up some on the walk home, and now his hesitation had nothing to do with the alcohol. What was he going to say to you? Were there even words?

But he couldn’t stand out here forever. Slowly, he slipped the key in the lock and opened the front door.

The apartment was pitch dark. He stumbled into the bedroom and found the bed empty. He called your name, and only silence greeted him.

You weren’t there.

He fought a surge of blinding panic, looking around to make sure all your things were still in place. When he was sure of that, he fished his phone out of his pocket and found your contact. It rang six times before someone answered.

“Hello?”

Bokuto felt his breath catch in his throat.

“She’s with you,” he stated. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

Bokuto fought back the bile that had made its way into his mouth. It wasn’t the alcohol making him sick.

“You can tell her—“

“Bokuto,” Akaashi cut him off.

“What?” Bokuto snapped.

“We’re at the hospital.”


	8. Chapter 8

Akaashi liked to tell himself that he fell in love with you slowly. He remembered little things about you. The way you tucked your hair when you were nervous, the sound of your laugh, the exact shape of your mouth at it smiled… He told himself that he locked those away because he liked them and wanted to remember them.

He told himself that the night you came to him sobbing over your mother’s death was the night he fell in love with you. The way your mouth felt against his, the way your body seemed to meld so perfectly with his own—they were all just more things to lock away. And abruptly, the feelings overflowed. All those little things he liked about you were suddenly things he loved.

At least, that’s what he tried to himself.

It was easier than admitting that he’d been in love with you since the moment he met you.

You’d asked him once if he remembered how the two of you met.

“It was like you were just there,” he’d said. “Like you were always there.”

It was the truth, at least partially. You felt like a fixed point in his life, something that was bound to happen no matter how the fates twisted.

What he couldn’t tell you was that he remembered the exact moment he first saw you. The hour, the minute, the second. It was branded into his memory.

He worked at the bookstore when he was in college. It was a painfully boring job unless it was the first or last week of classes. He was doing inventory when you came down the aisle, finger tracing over the bindings of the books. You were deep in concentration. So deep, you didn’t notice how openly he was staring at you. You found what you were looking for on the bottom shelf and rushed off to the register.

That moment was all it took. He was in love with you then.

And the next time he saw you, Bokuto’s arm was draped over your shoulder and you were introduced as his girlfriend.

He assumed these unrequited feelings would eat him alive. But being your friend was easier than he thought. It was so comfortable. Neither of you needed much to be content. When Bokuto wasn’t there, you could sit in silence, doing homework or watching tv or doing nothing all. Even when you both graduated, taking jobs that would keep you from spending as much time together, the friendship didn’t change. It was still so easy.

Except in those moments where Akaashi couldn’t fight back his feelings—moments where all those things about you that he “liked” threatened to spill over. He fought them down, choking on them until they abated. He wouldn’t push you away. He couldn’t.

He hadn’t meant to kiss you that night. You were beside yourself, inconsolable, losing yourself in the ebb of despair. He had to calm you down. He had to bring you back to him. He had to hold you together.

His lips found yours without thinking.

And when your tears stopped, he realized he couldn’t pull away. And you didn’t push him away. You only held on tighter.

His love for you overflowed.

That was the first night he traced your skin, running the pads of his fingers across your heated flesh. He could tell sometimes that you were trying to figure out what he was tracing. But if you ever found out, you never said anything.

They were promises. Vows. Declarations of his love. His fears. His hopes. His dreams. All the things he ever wanted to say to you—and some of them things he couldn’t. He traced the kanji every night, fingers precise in their movements. He wanted to sear himself into you, wanted to etch the words across your body.

He wanted you to remember them when you were long gone.

He should’ve felt much worse about it, being in love with his best friend’s girlfriend. He knew he should’ve. Not only that, but he’d put those feelings into action. It should’ve eaten him alive.

But Bokuto was selfish. You needed him, and he chose his own wants over your needs. He forgot about you. And Akaashi was there to pick up the pieces, putting you carefully back together.

Akaashi never asked if you knew who the father was—he was painfully aware of the fact that it could be either one of them. He knew the answer wouldn’t make a difference. Neither he nor Bokuto would love you or the baby any less. When he traced the promises at night now, they were to the baby too—promises to love him no matter what, to take care of him, to keep both of you happy. He would hold you both together.

He would always hold you together.

 

Akaashi’s confrontation with Bokuto left him furious. All Bokuto cared about was the fact that you’d slept together. Your feelings didn’t matter. The fact that he’d broken you didn’t matter.

Akaashi was livid. And you were the only one who could calm him down when he got like this.

He was about to slip his phone from his pocket when he felt it ringing. He looked down to see your name.

“I was just about to call you,” he said as he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Keiji…”

The sound of your voice stopped him mid-stride.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Keiji… I need… I need you… Something… Oh god…”

“What is it?”

“Keiji,” you said panicked. “Please… Hurry…”

Akaashi ran without thinking, your panic spurring him faster. He thundered up the stairs of your apartment building, flying through the door.

The sight of you standing before him, crying and shaking, was enough to suck all the air from his lungs.

There was so much blood, staining your shorts and dripping in rivulets down your legs. Your hands clutched your stomach desperately.

“Keiji,” you whimpered.

“We have to get you to the hospital,” he said firmly. “Now.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Pregnancy loss occurs in this chapter

The doctor’s words sounded foreign. Akaashi had the urge to punch him when he said it was “pretty common.” Most women, if they’re going to experience this, do so within the first 20 weeks. But at your stage at 26 weeks, it’s considered “stillborn.” It would be best to induce now and give birth like normal.

As if any of this was normal.

But when the doctor asked you what you wanted to do, you looked lost. Your eyes shifted to Akaashi, a trembling hand reaching desperately for him.

“I can’t,” you whispered weakly.

“Ma’am, we need to do this soon,” the doctor pressed.

“K-Keiji,” you whimpered. “Please…”

Akaashi knew the decision wasn’t his to make. But he also knew you could never make it. He had to hold you together. He looked to the doctor and nodded.

“Are you the father?” the doctor asked.

“Yes,” Akaashi replied without hesitation.

They gave you a pill that would start the process, and soon you felt the contractions. Your hands were still clutching Akaashi’s tightly.

“Keiji…”

“Yeah?”

“We… We never picked a name,” you murmured.

“You’re right,” he replied.

You didn’t say anything else after that, overtaken by another sharp contraction. Akaashi held on to you a little tighter.

When the doctor came in, gowned and gloved, Akaashi could feel you start to panic.

“It’s time,” he said solemnly.

“Keiji,” you looked up at Akaashi with wide eyes. “I can’t do this.”

“You have to,” he murmured.

“I can’t,” you repeated.

“I know,” he said, pressing his forehead against yours. “But you have to anyway.”

 

It wasn’t the sounds of your grunts and screams that broke Akaashi. It was the deafening silence that followed—the space that should have been filled with crying. It felt so heavy. And yet so empty.

“Sir,” the doctor said. “Sometimes the parents want to see—“

“No,” he cut him off.

The doctor nodded. Akaashi couldn’t watch what he did next, looking down at you instead. You hadn’t moved a muscle since the last push. You stared up at the ceiling, eyes wide and unfocused. When Akaashi found your hand against the bed, you grabbed it urgently.

“We’ll keep her here overnight for observation, and you’ll get the results of the post-mortem in a few weeks,” the doctor said.

Akaashi still couldn’t look at him. He knew what he was holding. He couldn’t bear to see it. All he did was nod. The doctor left, closing the door with a snap behind him.

“(Name),” Akaashi said softly.

“Keiji,” you muttered. “I can’t feel it.”

“What do you mean?”

You shifted your gaze to his face, eyes still unfocused.

“I should feel that he’s gone, right?” you asked. “I should feel different. Why… Why don’t I feel different?”

Akaashi opened and closed his mouth, gaping wordlessly. For the first time, he didn’t know what to say.

“Keiji…”

You were desperately waiting for an answer. Waiting for him to pick up your broken pieces. To put you back together.

“You have to,” he murmured.

You focused on him immediately, eyes locking onto his. He could feel your panic rising again. Your head shook back and forth rapidly.

“I can’t,” you said. “I can’t… No…”

“You have to feel it,” he repeated.

Akaashi settled next to you on the bed, pulling you against him gently. You were still shaking your head rapidly. He could feel your entire body trembling.

“He’s gone,” Akaashi sighed.

You froze, Akaashi’s words settling in slowly. He felt you press your face against his shoulder.

Your quiet sobs seemed to resonate through the small room as loudly as if you were screaming. Akaashi held you to him tighter. He would pick up your broken pieces. He would hold you together.

Because you held him together too.


	10. Chapter 10

Bokuto felt like he was walking through quicksand—no, not walking, drowning. All of his limbs felt as though they were made of lead. Even blinking felt like an impossible task sometimes.

You’d been home from the hospital for a week now. And in that entire time, neither of you had spoken.

When Akaashi told him that you were in the hospital, he’d felt his entire brain go haywire. He barely heard the words “stillborn” and “already over” through the receiver. Bokuto had made his way to the hospital in an all-out sprint to find you asleep in Akaashi’s arms. Akaashi hadn’t said a thing, sliding you out of his embrace and standing up. He didn’t even spare Bokuto a glance as he strode out the door. When you’d woken up to see Bokuto sitting in a chair next to your bed, you hadn’t said anything. And neither had he.

Were there words left?

Did the two of you have anything left?

He could hear you up and moving around from his spot on the couch—opening and closing the dresser, rifling through the closet, running the water in the bathroom. When you finally came out into the living room, he saw you were wearing your work clothes.

He didn’t say a word as you put on your shoes and walked out the door, sparing him a final glance over your shoulder.

He closed his eyes, wishing he could fall asleep. But he knew that was a lost cause. He hadn’t been able to sleep more than a few hours since the night before you lost the baby. He’d spent every night right here, on this couch, his body feeling like a sandbag and his mind churning.

It had been a while since he felt this numbness. The first time was when he was overseas, training with the national team. Though he’d been so excited to be recruited, he quickly realized that he was no longer the ace. Everyone else was better than him. He’d tried so hard to keep his spirits up. But those fingers of doubt crept into his brain. It was nothing new, he’d felt them all his life. But this time, there was no one there to pull him out of it. No Akaashi. No you.

And the longer he was there, the more he realized…

He was alone.

He was worthless.

He was nothing.

And when you had called him, when he saw your name light up on that screen, he didn’t know how to face you. How could he? He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve anything. He didn’t deserve to be happy.

So he’d ignored you.

If only he’d known it would push you away from him.

Lying here now, staring up at the ceiling, he blearily tried to sort through his feelings. His brain was numb. But there was one thing he could feel most prominently.

Guilt.

He could say he hated you for being with Akaashi. He could say he hated Akaashi for falling in love with you. He could hate the doctors, the nurses, anyone who had been involved…

But he’d never hate anyone more than he hated himself.

He’d ignored your phone call. It was a force of habit—one he learned was too easy when it came to you. He ignored you before and pushed you into Akaashi’s arms. This time, he’d pushed you toward Akaashi again.

You had needed him. And he’d been drunk on the dirty floor of a bar while you’d been forced to endure the most painful thing of your entire life without him.

How could he have done it? How could he do something like that to you when you needed him the most? How could he do something like that and still tell himself that he loved you?

He realized with a start that your face was swimming in front of him. He wondered for a moment if he’d finally been able to fall asleep. But then he felt your fingers against his cheek. You were so warm. Always so warm.

“Kou,” you said softly.

He broke like a dam, all of his anger, his despair, his guilt flooding out of his body in a violent sob. You leaned forward and threw your arms around his shoulders, pulling him up and toward you. He clung to you like a lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I’m… Oh god…”

“Kou,” you whispered. “It’s okay.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, something that always used to calm him down. He always loved when you played with his hair.

“I can’t, I… I’m sorry… I never meant to… When I… Please, I just… I’m so sorry,” he wailed into your shoulder.

“I know, Kou,” you sighed. “I know.”

He didn’t know how much time passed before his tears finally subsided, quieting to occasional hiccups. And still, he clung to you.

“Do you think I would’ve been a good father?” he asked suddenly.

“I think you will be a great father, Kou,” you corrected. “When the time comes.”

He didn’t want to ask the next question. He didn’t want to put it out into the world. He wanted to clamp his mouth shut, sit with you here forever, forget about the rest of the world.

But he couldn’t do that.

“This is it for us, isn’t it?”

He felt your arms tighten around him. It was the answer he needed.

“Kou…” you said softly.

“I love you, you know,” he murmured. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me… The best thing…”

“Kou, I love you so much,” you sighed. “Truth be told, I think I love you more than I’ll ever love anyone else in my entire life. You’re the sun, Kou. You made everything brighter. You made me happier than I’ve ever been. And when you weren’t there, things were so dark. But Kou… We broke each other. And there’s no repairing it. There’s no going back to the way we were…”

Bokuto felt his tears falling again. And this time, they weren’t tears of despair.

He cried because he knew you were right.

“Kou, I want you to be so happy,” you whimpered, your tears falling freely. “It’s all I want for you. And you can’t be happy with me.”

“I know,” he choked. “I… I want you to be happy too.”

Bokuto knew that when he let you go, things would be over. So he held on for a little longer. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. He wanted to remember this smell forever.

“Promise me that you’ll learn to be happy again, Kou,” you said.

He felt a fresh wave of tears, his hold tightening momentarily before he finally let you go.

“I promise,” he murmured.


	11. Chapter 11

Akaashi felt so nervous. You hadn’t spoken to him in a week—not since he left you with Bokuto at the hospital. He wanted to give you your space, wanted to give you the time you needed to heal on your own.

But as the week wore on and you still hadn’t called, he felt himself getting more anxious. He told himself it was because he was worried about you—worried that you might need him.

But it was a thinly veiled lie.

It was him that needed you.

When his phone finally rang, he felt like crying. You asked if you could come over. He could never turn you down. Now he was pacing the apartment frantically, listening intently for your arrival. It was what he always did when he waited for you—always anxious to see you, always frantic.

Knock knock knock.

Three sharp raps against the door were your calling card. He made it to the door in four long strides and threw it open.

Seeing you before him, standing and breathing and smiling softly… He felt overwhelmed. He’d been so afraid that you might not be the same after losing the baby. But you were still you.

“Sorry for the intrusion,” you murmured, stepping over the threshold. 

“You know you’re not an intrusion,” he corrected.

You slipped off your shoes, and he expected you to make your way to the couch like you always did. But instead, you slid your hand in his and led him back toward his bedroom.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I just want to lay with you for a while,” you replied.

He settled next to you on the bed, and out of habit, his fingers reached out to trail over your body. You still had your clothes on, but it didn’t matter. For a while, neither of you said anything.

“Is it writing?” you asked suddenly.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

“What are you writing?”

“It’s just… Things that I love about you,” he said. “Things that I always wish I could tell you.”

“Why don’t you just tell me?” you wondered.

“They might make you hate me,” he replied. “And I don’t think I could live if you hated me.”

He looked up in time to see your hand press against his cheek. He leaned into your touch. You were so warm. Always so warm.

“Kou and I are done.”

His eyes widened at your words. They should have made him happier. It was what he’d wanted from the beginning. So why was your expression making him feel worse by the second?

“Keiji…” you said softly.

He realized immediately what was happening.

“No,” he muttered. “No, you… Please…”

“Keiji, I—“

“Please don’t,” he begged. “Please… Please don’t leave me.”

“I don’t want to do this, Keiji,” you admitted, and he could already hear your voice quavering with tears.

“Then don’t,” he pleaded. “You don’t have to.”

“I do, Keiji,” you countered.

“(Name), please,” he implored you. “I… I don’t think I can live without you.”

“And that’s why we can’t be together,” you cried, the tears spilling over. “We can never be happy together because we don’t know how to be happy apart. Keiji… We’ve spent so long picking up each other’s broken pieces… Putting each other back together… But we need to be able to do it ourselves.”

“I… I can’t,” Akaashi breathed. “Not… Without you.”

“You have to,” you muttered. “You have to be happy without me, Keiji… You can’t be happy with me if you’re not happy alone.”

Akaashi couldn’t stop his tears, and he pulled you against him, burying his face in your hair and letting them fall freely. He wanted to memorize the smell of your hair, wanted to remember it forever. He felt you cling him desperately.

“I love you so much,” he sobbed.

“I love you too, Keiji,” you cried.

You held each other until your tears were nothing but quiet sniffles. And then you held on just a little longer.

“I want you to be happy,” you said softly.

“I know,” he murmured. “I want you to be happy too.”

“Promise me you’ll learn to be happy again, Keiji,” you whispered.

He felt a fresh wave of tears, his hold tightening for only a moment before letting you go.

“I promise.”

 

You managed to make it out of the apartment and down the street before collapsing against a building, your wracking sobs overtaking you. Your body shook as you cried, hands fisting in your hair.

Bokuto was gone.

Akaashi was gone.

The baby was gone.

You were completely alone.

You weren’t sure how long you crouched there, forehead pressed against the rough brick. It felt like hours, even days. But eventually, you stood up, wiped away your tears, and walked on.

Bokuto was the sun, dazzling you and blinding you. Akaashi was the earth, fixing you and grounding you.

Maybe you wouldn’t be able to live without them.

But you had to try.


	12. Chapter 12

Akaashi leaned back in his chair, slipping his fingers beneath his glasses to rub his eyes. It had been a long morning of teleconferences with the branch in Germany, trying to decide on the specifics for a new building going up in Berlin. There were some issues with the land developers, and that had taken some time to sort out. But everything was on track for construction in June now.

Despite the stresses that came with his new promotion, he could honestly say that he was happy.

If anyone had asked him four years ago if he thought he could be happy like this, he would’ve laughed in their faces.

But he was determined to keep his promise.

“Promise me you’ll learn to be happy again…”

And truthfully, he had learned to be happy again. He’d finally learned to be happy alone.

The intercom in front of him crackled as the secretary announced the arrival of his 11:00 appointment. He told her to send them back, mentally filing away the fact that they needed a new pager system—this one seemed straight out of the 1970s. His door opened and he stood to greet the new client.

He made it halfway there, knees still bent, when he froze.

“(Name)…”

You stood in the doorway, just as beautiful as he remembered. No… You were different now. It was your smile.

You looked so happy.

“Keiji,” you said happily.

“What… What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Is this not okay?” you muttered, your smile faltering. “I can go, I—“

“No!” he said, a bit louder than he intended. “No, it’s… It’s really nice to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you too.”

The smile was back, and Akaashi felt a rush of affection for you returning. He gestured for you to sit down across from him.

“So, you’re my 11:00?” he asked, sitting down as well.

“Ah, yes, and I actually do need an architect,” you said, shuffling through the bag you’d brought for some paperwork. “I knew I could trust you, so I looked you up. I can’t believe you’re a managing partner already!”

“Ah, yeah. It was a pretty recent promotion,” he conceded.

“Still, that’s amazing,” you marveled.

“Y-yeah, I suppose.”

“Anyway, here’s the information on the property we’ve got,” you changed the subject, passing him the paperwork. “Dad was in love with it, but the building is garbage so we’re thinking of just taking it down.”

“Your dad?” Akaashi asked.

“Oh, yeah, it’s for the bakery,” you explained. “It took off, business is crazy. He took a little class on how to make some fancy type of coffee and people are obsessed with it. We need a bigger location. And he loved the property, but like I said, the building is garbage.”

“Well, it’s always easier to start from scratch,” he noted, looking over the paperwork.

“Yeah…”

Akaashi glanced up to see you were staring at him. He realized the double meaning his words held.

“Are you happy, Keiji?” you asked suddenly.

“I am,” he replied without hesitation. “And… It seems like you are too.”

“I am,” you said with a nod. “I’m so happy.”

He wasn’t sure how to ask the next question. But he felt like he needed to know.

“So do you… Talk to Bokuto?”

“I do,” you nodded.

“And… How’s he doing?” he asked.

“He’s amazing,” you replied with a tone of awe. “He’s… Happier than I’ve ever seen him… He’s married now.”

“W-what?” Akaashi looked across the table at you with wide, shocked eyes.

“She’s so serious,” you laughed. “More serious than you even. But she grounds him.”

“That’s great,” Akaashi sighed, and he meant it.

You abruptly reached into your purse and pulled out your phone. After finding what you were looking for on it, you flipped it toward him. It was a picture of Bokuto… And…

“Is that…” Akaashi murmured.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “His son.”

Bokuto was holding up a baby to the camera, a proud smile on his face. There were tears in his eyes too.

“That’s… Amazing,” Akaashi marveled. “He really is happy.”

“He’s so happy,” you agreed. “And… I’m so happy for him.”

Akaashi searched your face, looking for any twinge of regret, any hint of sadness. But you really were purely, unabashedly happy for him.

“Well, let me look over these and I’ll be in touch,” he said, brandishing the papers at you. “We’ll set up an inspection of the property and I’ll start drawing up some plans.”

“Perfect,” you replied. “Thanks, Keiji.”

“No problem.”

You both stood up, and he reached across the table to shake your hand. You were still so warm. And now your smile was warm too. You spared him a final wave as you made your way out the door, closing it behind you.

Akaashi was so glad you were finally happy. You’d learned to pick up your own pieces and take care of yourself. And even Bokuto was happy now. The three of you had somehow come out of this ordeal better people, and you’d managed to do it on your own.

But watching you walk out the door still felt wrong.

He’d finally learned how to be happy on his own.

Maybe it was finally okay to be happy with you too.

 

You made your way out into the warm summer air, taking a deep breath and letting another smile spread over your face. Akaashi was happy. Bokuto was happy.

And you were so happy.

How could this have ended any better for the three of you?

The door behind you opened in a flurry, and you spun around in surprise to find Akaashi running after you.

“Is everything okay?” you asked.

“I just… I’m going to lunch… And I want to know if you’d join me,” he panted.

You didn’t hesitate.

“I’d like that,” you replied with a smile.

You’d finally learned to be happy on your own.

Maybe it was finally okay to be happy with him too.


	13. Epilogue

Bokuto sat in his chair, back curved forward and elbows propped up on his knees. His thick brows were furrowed in a way that clearly said he was thinking too hard about something. Gears were turning behind his golden eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

The gentle lilt of his wife Hina’s voice from the doorway behind him didn’t distract him from the object of his consternation. Not even when he heard her light footsteps, nor when her hand came to rest against his shoulder.

“You look troubled,” she noted lightly.

“How do you do it?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“How do you get him to eat the peas?”

Hina looked from her husband to her son, sitting across from his father and babbling happily in his high chair. He was covered in his lunch, a mashed mess of boiled chicken and potatoes and peas. It seemed that not a single pea had made its way into his mouth, and he was wearing most of them all over his onesie.

“Generally speaking, this is how most of the meals that include peas end up,” she sighed.

“Really?” 

He perked up at her words, looking up at her with a far less agonized expression. She patted his shoulder encouragingly.

“Really,” she assured him.

“I’ve just gotta think of a different tactic is all,” he nodded, looking back at his son. “I know I can get him to do it. I got him to eat carrots and apples too.”

“You did,” she conceded. “But it’ll have to wait for another time.”

“Oh, seriously?” he cried, looking down at his watch in alarm. “Crap. Alright, come on little dude. You gotta look nice for your date.”

Bokuto stood from his seat and lifted his son from the high chair. The little boy squealed happily, tiny fingers fisting in his fathers slicked up hair. But Bokuto couldn’t care. Couldn’t do anything but smile at the happy little boy in his arms. 

“Make him look cute,” Hina called to his retreating back.

“He always looks cute,” Bokuto replied.

 

The knock at the front door was a few minutes late, but then again, so was Bokuto. He called a hasty “Hold on! Hold on!” from the other room, despite the fact that there was no way the other person could hear him. He was frantically throwing little shoes on his son when the second knock sounded, a little more insistent this time.

“Alright, so demanding,” he laughed.

He hefted his son into his arms—tiny hands curling around the black and white hair once more—and hurried out to the main room. The third knock had barely begun when he finally threw the door open.

“About time!” you exclaimed, heaving yourself over the threshold and dropping your bags unceremoniously to the floor.

“You were late too!”

“Hand him over!”

Bokuto knew better than to tease you about this. Since you’d planned the trip down to see him, you’d been talking nonstop about the little boy who was now nestled in your arms, smiling and squealing with utter delight. The smile on your face closely mirrored his. Bokuto reached down and hoisted your bags over his shoulder.

“How was the drive?” he asked.

“Long,” you replied. “I can’t believe you left Tokyo for a small town. You were the last person who I ever thought would do that.”

“Well, it was for Hina,” he shrugged. “Her parents are down here, and they’re getting pretty old, so—“

“I was just joking, Kou,” you laughed.

You settled onto the couch, propping up the happy little boy on your lap while Bokuto stuck your bags in the spare bedroom. He came back to find you lavishing kisses on the small boy’s head.

“Pretty sure he doesn’t even like you,” Bokuto joked.

“The purest form of hatred,” you quipped.

“He’s a spiteful kid.”

“Oh, he certainly looks it,” you noted as the little boy squealed with joy.

“Did you find our house okay?” Bokuto asked, dropping down into the chair across from you.

“I did. It’s beautiful out here.”

“Our back yard is like a scenic overlook, it’s pretty neat. I’ll take you out later, if you want. I think Hina wants us to have dinner out there tonight.”

“Speaking of, where is my lovely hostess?” you asked, finally glancing up from the happy weight on your lap.

“She had a few errands to run in town, and I think she’s getting stuff for dinner while she’s there,” he replied. There was a pause, and then, “Wait, you don’t think I’m lovely?”

“No one is as lovely as Hina,” you laughed.

“True.”

The conversation was easy and light, made even more so by the adorable distraction who was now gnawing at a teething ring and practically falling asleep in your arms. Bokuto talked about the coaching he was doing now for the local college, asked about your parents and how the bakery was going. You told him about the expansion to a new location, your dad’s fancy classes and his newfound legacy as the “Cool Coffee Dude.”

But your brain stuttered to a halt, nervous for what you were about to say. You couldn’t keep it from him. The two of you didn’t have that kind of relationship. You didn’t lie to each other. Not anymore.

“I ran into Akaashi a few weeks ago,” you said gently.

Bokuto’s eyebrows rose in mild shock.

“How is he?” he asked.

“He’s… Really good,” you replied. “He’s a managing partner at his architecture firm already. I actually went to him for plans for the new building.”

“That’s really great,” Bokuto murmured.

There was something in his expression that you couldn’t quite place. Something that wasn’t very… Bokuto. He was smiling now. But it wasn’t quite right. He didn’t seem angry, but…

“So… Are you two…” he trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence.

“We’ve had lunch a few times,” you said. “And we’re getting dinner when I go back.”

His expression didn’t change. It wasn’t the revelation that you were with Akaashi again. It wasn’t you…

“He asked about you, you know,” you murmured.

“He… He did?”

“Kou… Do you miss him?” you asked softly.

There it was, the twitch of his brow, the tick of his jaw, telling you that you were right. It felt like you were intruding on a private moment, something you shouldn’t be seeing. You looked down at the little boy who was sleeping against your shoulder. Your fingers ran absentmindedly over his hair.

“I… I think I’ll go put him down for a little bit,” Bokuto said, standing abruptly.

You just nodded, passing the baby into his waiting arms. He hefted the little boy against his shoulder, settling him with a few gentle pats to his back as he shuffled out of the room.

It had been the right thing to do, telling Bokuto. You knew that for sure now. It wasn’t as though you expected him to be angry. But you’d feared seeing that expression in his eyes again—the one that seemed forever etched in your memory, the one he made when he begged you not to leave him.

The pictures on the mantle captured your attention, and you rose off the couch to get a better look at them. Bokuto and Hina were center stage all of them. They were each in matching silver frames, detailing the life of the happy couple within so far. The one furthest to the left was the first tournament she’d ever gone to—she looked like he’d definitely blackmailed her into going. At least she was smiling in the next one, a picture of them on a date taken on his phone. A few more special occasions, and then it was the wedding picture.

And there you were, two spots away from Hina in the pretty gray bridesmaid’s dress she’d picked out. How had it fit all of you perfectly? She had amazing taste. And when she’d asked you to be in the wedding party, it took you aback.

“Why?” you’d asked.

“Because you’re important to Koutarou,” she’d replied calmly. “Which means you’re important to me too.”

There were a couple pictures after the wedding, Bokuto’s last game with the national team and the two of them at a holiday party—starring a visibly pregnant Hina. And then it was all pictures of the baby, from infancy to now. Most of them included a beaming Bokuto, and there was even one with the two of them sleeping soundly, the baby propped up on his chest.

Bokuto was so different now. He wasn’t the same man who was afraid for you to leave him, the one who didn’t know how to be alone. He’d been the one to call you first, to tell you he missed you and wanted to see you, wanted you to meet Hina. He was so happy now.

And you were happy for him.

 

Bokuto laid his son down in his crib. He stared at him, watching the even rise and fall of his chest, the curl of his fingers around his little shirt. He wasn’t thinking about the baby though. His mind was hundreds of miles away.

He’d never been brave enough to contact Akaashi after everything happened. It had been so easy to pick up the phone and dial your number, hear your voice, say your name. But it was different with Akaashi. It wasn’t allowed to be that easy….

Was it?

He asked about you, you know.

Bokuto’s hand reached tentatively into his pocket, pulling his phone from its depths. Shaky fingers sifted through his contacts, finding the name he recognized. The name he’d selected more times than he could count all those years ago. It felt like a different lifetime.

And really, it was.

He didn’t give himself time to doubt, didn’t let him rethink the decision, before he pressed the green button and held the receiver to his ear. It rang three times before the dial tone cut off.

“Hello, Bokuto-san.”

The sound of that cool, even voice after four years made his breath hitch. He opened his mouth, grasping for words. But none would come.

“Are you alright? Is everything okay?” Akaashi asked.

“Y-Yeah,” Bokuto choked.

The other end was silent now, save for the quiet hum of distant traffic. Bokuto knew he should say something. He was the one who’d called. All the things he’d wanted to say for the past four years swirled around in his brain—“I don’t hate you,” “I never hated you,” “I know I was at fault,” “I miss you.” But nothing felt right.

“Bokuto-san?”

“Yeah?” Bokuto asked.

“I saw a picture of you and your son. It seems as though you’re doing very well.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto repeated, unable to find another word to use.

“I… I’m very glad you’re happy, Bokuto-san.”

“Yeah,” he choked, feeling the tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

More silence, save for Bokuto’s quiet tears. His son shifted in the crib, and Bokuto reached a hand down to calm him.

“Hey, Akaashi?”

“Yes?”

“I’m really glad you’re happy too,” Bokuto murmured.

Neither of them spoke for a while, but it was evident that neither had hung up—Bokuto was humming tunelessly to keep his son asleep, and he could still hear the quiet hum of traffic on the other end.

“Could… Could we get together the next time I’m in Tokyo?” Bokuto asked.

“I’d like that, Bokuto-san. I’d like that a lot.”

Bokuto nodded, forgetting Akaashi couldn’t see it. He felt himself smiling, and for the first time in years, he felt like every single thing had finally fallen into place. Nothing was missing. The most important people in his life were all in it.

He was really, truly happy.


End file.
